


class acts

by chaosy



Series: tumblr fics [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Coach!Braeden, F/M, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosy/pseuds/chaosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phalafelapproves sent: could you do a teacher!au?</p>
            </blockquote>





	class acts

Braeden has a problem with the Beacon Hills High science department. Said problem goes by the name of Derek S. Hale.

Derek S. Hale has cute glasses, wears ties with constellations on them, has scruff that looks soft enough to pet and wears shirts that are deliberately too tight for him. Seriously. The biceps are practically bursting out of his button-down.

Braeden wants to  _eat him up_.

Teaching gym is actually harder than it looks. You get the kids who are the bullies, who are good at sport and not much else and are cocky little bastards and push the little ones out the way. You get the kids who are mocked because they’re a little too skinny or chubby. You get the kids who have no idea how to catch. You get the kids who  _do_ know how to catch but don’t give a fuck. It’s tiring.

"Hey coach!" one of the juniors yells as she walks into the changing room. Big game tonight. The first of her career. These arrogant fucks better win, she thinks, grimly. "Wanna play ball with me?"

The idiot who’s speaking is called Jameson. He’s bulky but he’s a poor defender. He only made the team tonight because Stilinski had to drop out at the last minute. Something about a  _very important_  date. Braeden has no idea. Jameson has a flirty smile on his face.

Braeden is well aware of how she looks, even when she’s in a mauve and white tracksuit (seriously, who thought up these uniforms?). She raises an eyebrow at Dickshit the Third and and tosses his crosse at him.

"I think your stick is a little too short," she replies with smoothly. The rest of the boys in the changing room holler and cheer and she sweeps out.

Derek S. Hale, Mr. Hale, ex-professor from NYU Hale is standing outside the door with an amused smile on his face. “Inappropriate,” he says. Braeden shrugs.

"Gonna report me to the principal?" she teases, and he smirks and  _hello_. Braeden could get used to this school and it’s population of incredibly hot teachers.

"Detention, maybe," Derek replies. Braeden laughs.

She walks past him, pats him on the arm. “Cheer us on at the game. Even you science types can appreciate a little school spirit.”

—

Derek comes to every game that season.

It’s not like it’s really unusual; Derek is a physics teacher but he’s always been an active member of the school. Derek is the  _that guy_ of the teachers’ room. The guy who writes positive messages on the board and leaves extra muffins for everyone and washes all the mugs and organises meetings and fundraisers and god knows what else.

The kids love him.

It’s not just the girls, either, who swoon over his ass as he writes equations over the board. The kids genuinely love getting taught by Derek because he’s so fucking enthusiastic about space.

"Hey, Braeden, you mind subbing for Hale’s class today?" Their principal is a short, slightly annoying guy but at least he’s nice to the kids. Braeden leans against the doorframe, nods.

"Where is he?" she asks. There’s a game tonight. It’ll be the first one of the season that Derek misses.

Principal Morley shrugs. “Not answering his cell. Rare behaviour, I know. Class in ten minutes, bunch of juniors. Rowdy but not too bad.”

Braeden can handle them. The kids like her fine, but they’re mostly scared of how she got those scars on her throat. She gives them a different story every time they’re bold enough to ask.

Derek’s class is a mixed bunch. Lydia Martin sits up front with a 5.0 GPA and perfectly curled hair. Stilinski and McCall, a couple of goofballs on the team, are messing around in the back and throwing scrunched up pieces of paper at Whittemore, who’s in the row in front. Normally Braeden would call them out on it but Whittemore is a fucking asshole, so she lets it slide.

What the principal doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

She writes out Derek’s sub work on the board, tells the class that if they don’t know the answer, they can work together, because whilst she’s pretty smart herself she doesn’t pretend to know shit about physics.

She hears rustling and panting to her left as the door opens and closes. She doesn’t even bother to look up at first.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr— Hale?"

Derek is standing in the doorway, looking flushed and panting and his tie is askew and  _fuck_  if Braeden doesn’t want to drag him to the nearest janitor’s closet and suck his dick.

"I’m so sorry, class," he says earnestly. Some of the girls coo. "I got held up. My neighbour’s cat got stuck up a tree, wanted my help."

The girls coo louder. Even Stilinski and McCall stop firing paper ammunition at Whittmore’s head to stare at their teacher.

Braeden just blinks at him because the man is literally made from puppies and stars. And ridiculously fitted shirts.

When she passes him to leave, Derek nudges her arm. “I lied,” he whispers into her ear, his voice soft and sweet. “I overslept.”

Braeden figures she deserves and award for holding her laughter in until she’s out in the corridor.

—

"Ow.  _Ow_ ,” Stilinski is complaining as she patches up his foot.

"That’s what you get for trying to trip up a guy who’s twice your size," she tells him seriously. He grumbles but stays put.

Stilinski is a halfway decent player, if he’s concentrating. Kid’s riddled with ADHD and some angsty family problems that Braeden doesn’t pry into. He works out a lot of energy on the pitch, though, so she lets him stay on the team even though he and the asthmatic guy hardly make the best pair. 

His foot is just bruised, not swollen, so she sees him out until she knows that he’s with his dad. They won, but only by a whisker. It was a tense game but her boys pulled through.

She’s just gathering her stuff in her office when Derek S. Hale steps in, cute glasses, constellation tie, biceps and all. It’s a nice sight after a victory.

"Great game tonight," he says, pushing up his glasses. Braeden smiles at him. The blush on his cheeks is  _adorable_.

"Thank you. I’m proud of them. Really pulled through, didn’t they?" she says.

Derek nods, smiles at her. “Mhm. You left your organiser in my classroom, though,” he says, holds it up like a trophy. Braeden brightens up.  _That’s_ where it was.

"You’re a lifesaver. Need to reorganise the timetable for the girls," she says, and that’s when Derek steps in a little closer. He’s taller than her but not by much and Braeden can smell peppermint and nice aftershave.

"I never did say thank you for substituting for me earlier," he murmurs.

Braeden tilts her head to the side. “Mhm. Bringing me my organiser isn’t thanks enough for you?” she says.

Derek just chuckles. “No,” he breathes back, and leans in, presses their mouths together. Braeden winds her arms around his neck and hums, her toes curling in her sneakers.

Derek is a fantastic kisser, kisses with his whole body. His hands slide over her waist and his mouth is soft and wet and Braeden feels the desk behind her bump against her thighs and  _hell yes_  this is happening. 

She pulls him in closer by his silly constellation tie as he sits her up on the desk. Derek laughs, bites her ear. “You good?” he asks, hands trailing up her thighs.

A spark of heat flares up in her gut. She flicks open the buttons of his stupid tight shirt, grinning. “Perfect. You think your physics brain can adapt to this?”

Derek laughs again and it’s like music. He mouths a messy line up her neck and says, “I think I’ll get the hang of it.”

Derek S. Hale is, as Braeden finds out, a very quick learner.

**Author's Note:**

> the quip about derek sleeping in actually happened to me once. my favourite lecturer ran into class half an hour late with an excuse about how he'd saved a baby bird on the street and had to bring it to its mother's nest. whilst we were talking later, i asked him about it and he immediately owned up to me and said "yeah, sorry, i slept in but i'm known as the punctual guy so i needed an excuse". i kept quiet and my grade mysteriously went up. university is fantastic.  
> tumblr: martinisms.tumblr.com


End file.
